


farewell the light

by prowlish



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Anniversary, Banter, Canon-Typical Violence, Cute, Dancing, Episode Related, Fade to Black, Feel-good, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Gen, Gossip, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Introspection, Kissing, M/M, Married Couple, Mild Gore, Mutually Unrequited, Platonic Cuddling, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Pre-Slash, Sick Character, Silly, Slice of Life, Stargazing, Tickling, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, does that count as angst? probably, drift being fatalistic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-07-23 17:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16163525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prowlish/pseuds/prowlish
Summary: Collected ficlets for Lost Light Fest 2018!





	1. Day One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 1: I combined the prompts Ultra Magnus + The Launch... except I decided to use the second launch so I could sneak Megatron in there :)

When the large frame that strode onto the bridge turned out to be Ultra Magnus, there was a palpable relaxation in the air. That could be humorous, really — crew members  _ relaxing _ because he walked onto the bridge. But considering who else was on their command staff now, Magnus was sure he could not find any fault in them. In fact, he’d arrived here for the launch extra early to ensure he was the first commanding officer on the bridge for that reason exactly. Megatron, for all of his flaws, was absolutely punctual. (An admirable trait for any ‘bot.) 

 

And Rodimus, of course,  _ would _ be late. Their captain — co-captain, now, apparently — ran on his own sense of time anyway, but considering how he felt about the most recent events… Well. He probably would not say it aloud, but Rodimus was having a sulk.

 

So for now, it left him — and the handful of crew who were strangely happy for his presence — to gaze through the windows at the ports of Iacon. They looked nothing like they used to, of course. But that it was so busy and infrastructure had popped up around it made him feel… something akin to hope. The war would darken the horizon of their history for ages, but if they could truly rebuild, then perhaps…

 

The hour clicked over and, right on cue, the door to the bridge opened again. The uncertain quiet which greeted the arrival told Magnus who had walked onto the bridge just as much as the fact that he’d arrived precisely on time. 

 

He turned, his gaze meeting Megatron’s, before he called out, “Captain on the bridge!” The crew, despite looking anywhere from uncertain to uncomfortable and beyond, still seemed relieved for the guidance and quickly saluted before going back to their posts.

 

Magnus turned to look out the windows again as Megatron sat down. “Is everything prepared for launch?”

 

“Yes,” he replied, not looking away from the view.

 

“Well, shall we get on with it?”

 

Magnus turned back. “Rodimus has not yet arrived.”

 

Megatron made something of a face. After working with him all through his trial, Magnus felt he could make an educated guess that Megatron was trying not to roll his optics. “Should we really delay for him? He seemed rather attached to the pouting he was doing, last I saw.” 

 

Magnus arched an optic ridge. “I cannot force that decision,” he replied. “But given that, I also will not assume responsibility for any backlash that may arise.” 

 

Megatron made an odd sound, muffled behind the hand he’d rested his chin upon. Again, closer inspection and recent experience informed him that this time it was a laugh that Megatron had suppressed. Magnus turned again, folding his arms behind him, because he did not know how he should feel about being  _ pleased _ that Megatron clearly parsed the humorous bent of his statement.


	2. Day Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2! I had to be a tryhard and combine all three... Rodimus + Get Well Soon + The Sparkeater... and bring Drift in because I can't seem to stop writing flirtatious robots tonight. (:

Drift’s arrival brought a smile to Rodimus’ face, which was easy considering there weren’t many times that he was displeased to see the swordsmech. But especially  _ now _ , when he was so bored and on a medical restriction.

 

Drift stopped in his tracks, tilting his helm. “They’re — ”

 

“I know,” Rodimus said, lifting his half-reconstructed arms. “Ratchet said he was going to fix them, but apparently he has more pressing matters to attend to.” He snorted, fiddling his fingers. Without the rest of the endo-frame or plating, the effect was almost eerie.

 

Drift shook his helm as he stepped closer and sat next to Rodimus. “Well, I suppose I’m your consolation prize, then,” he remarked.

 

Rodimus tilted his head, a little grin appearing on his lips. “Not that you  _ aren’t _ a prize, but what does that mean?”

 

The other mech scoffed, but he seemed pleased anyway. “Ratchet insinuated I should come over here and check on you,” he replied. “I think he just wanted me out of the medibay… I don’t exactly have a ‘get well soon’ card or anything.”

 

Rodimus hummed, giving Drift a sly look. “That’s alright,” he said. “I bet you can make me feel better anyway.”

 

Drift snorted, his optics giving a bright flicker, though it was coupled with a put-on demure look. “And how should I go about that?” he murmured.

 

Rodimus grinned again, reaching for him with his strange, half-skeletal looking arm. “I’m so glad you asked.”


	3. Day Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: Drift + Delphi. just a little introspection :)
> 
> emetophobia warning btw

Drift shuttered his optics. What was the point in keeping them open when they were barely functioning and he was starting to taste them on the back of his glossa? That was a sensation he’d never imagined, not even in his worst nightmares.

 

And not that any of them were thrilled about the current situation, but Drift in particular  _ hated _ being grounded from the action. Even if it  _ was _ on the grounds of “probably dying” — in a plague house, that seemed like a pretty broad description.

 

His tanks lurched and he struggled to roll on his side. The only thing that could make this worse would be to purge his tanks and then inhale it. A pair of gentle hands steadied his shoulders and helped him support himself as he voided his tanks of whatever fuel had been stored there and… well, Drift didn’t really want to think about anything else that may have liquefied into his tanks.

 

Drift felt the flicker of an EM-field against his own and onlined his optics — it was a struggle, but he managed. He knew from the way that field felt against his own that it was no longer Ratchet who was shuffling around near his slab. “First Aid?” he said, when he could finally focus his optics. “Where’s Ratchet?”

 

The medic tilted his helm. “He went after Pharma. You should lay back down. I’ll get an IV so your tanks won’t get upset again.” 

 

That wouldn’t do. When First Aid’s back was turned, Drift pushed himself onto uncertain pedes and trekked as quickly as he could out of the room. If they were all doomed, he’d prefer to go down fighting. Specifically before anyone from the DJD could arrive on the scene.

 

While it was an inspiring thought, moving was still a struggle. The rust in his joints made moving hard and rather more imprecise than he was accustomed to. With that in mind, Drift went ahead and unsheathed a sword. The last thing he wanted was to haul himself somewhere useful and not be able to draw one because his joints had all melted away.

 

Drift had to pause to collect himself; empty tanks and critically hurt was, unfortunately, a situation he wasn’t  _ completely _ a stranger to — though he was more used to injury than sickness. 

 

He didn’t like sickness. It was easy to feel weak in the face of something uncontrollable, when he was used to ignoring and overcoming other pains.

 

Shaking off the thoughts, he finally got moving again. At least he had a trail to follow, as grim a thought as it was — it meant Ratchet was now suffering the same thing. It meant he needed to  _ hurry _ .

 

He had debts to repay.


	4. Day Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 4, Ratchet - a companion piece to Day 3 :) Some Ratchet POV on Delphi

So many things had happened in such a short span that Ratchet thought it was impossible to be shocked any further. Pharma aiming to take him down with him wasn’t shocking — in fact, he was surprised he’d lasted this long with how rapidly this disease progressed. But nothing really prepared him for the next instant, when there was a desperate cry of  _ “No!” _ and Drift appeared to fly out of nowhere, wielding one of those damnable blades and cutting Pharma at the wrists to send him plummeting away.

 

Of course, in doing this, the swordsmech had used what was left of his strength and collapsed on the snowy roof of the complex, the horrible red fluid the virus turned their innards into a creeping stain spreading around the mech’s frame.

 

“Drift…” he murmured. Drift didn’t so much as twitch, even when Ratchet kneeled next to him. He used his remaining hand to carefully turn the mech over; he didn’t need to lose the other arm right now either. The immense relief Ratchet felt to find him still functioning challenged maybe some of the things he’d just said to Pharma… but that wasn’t really his concern at the moment. “Hey, c’mon now. Stay awake. You think I can carry you this way? I only have one arm left and who knows how long it’ll stick around…”

 

Drift snorted and peeked an optic open with some effort. It was clear he could barely see.

 

Ratchet rolled his optics. “Glad  _ that _ makes you laugh,” he muttered.

 

“Well, it doesn’t matter, right? If there’s no cure, we’re doomed anyway…”

 

Ratchet frowned. “Working on that,” he replied. It was hard to focus on the avatar rooting around in the snow of Messatine’s surface, and on a conversation on the roof with Drift, but he managed. “Anyway, if that’s how you feel, what was the point of dragging yourself all the way up here to save me?”

 

Drift was quiet for so long, Ratchet thought he might have passed out for real. Then he sighed, a worrying liquid rattling echoing in his vents. “You know why,” he finally replied.

 

Ratchet pursed his lips. “What, Rodion again? Drift, I was just doing my job, there’s nothing — ”

 

But Drift shook his helm and coughed so violently he expelled more of the red rust from his throat. Ratchet was so distracted his avatar dropped the vial and he muttered curses under his intakes. “Not just that,” he struggled out. “I went on to kill so many. I — ”

 

“Shut up,” Ratchet hissed. He needed his concentration as much as he needed  _ not _ to have this conversation. “I already told you, you aren’t going to die today. So cut it out with the deathbed confessions. It’s not like my forgiveness would make a difference. It won’t change anything.”

 

Drift quieted, shuttering both of his optics again with another sigh. “It’d be a start,” he murmured.

 

Ratchet said nothing.


	5. Day Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 5: Megatron (+Drift), Hang in There, Shadowplay
> 
> was wondering if i should keep the shadowplay prompt above, since this takes place more like... soon after chaos theory. but thinking of shadowplay (era) led me to where this fic ended up, so.......... yeah
> 
> expect a lot more of these prompts to get sideways or turned completely on their heads going forward lol, I'm just doing as a please :')

When Drift got a message from Megatron asking to meet, he was more than eager to respond. It had been some time since they’d seen each other… Megatron  _ did _ often go quiet for long periods when deep under the surface of Cybertron, but this had been the longest yet. He’d started to worry that Megatron had tired of him… or finally taken his miner friend’s advice. The message had been a reassurance — until he stepped into the rented room. Megatron’s somber expression brought a few doubts back. Though he wasn’t a particularly  _ exuberant _ mech, Megatron did usually greet Drift with a smile.

 

Still, Megatron had said he wanted to see Drift, and he was one of the few beings that Drift trusted implicitly.

 

“Hey,” Drift said softly.

 

Megatron extended a hand, beckoning him forward, and Drift trotted closer. He wasn’t sure what was wrong but he was eager for the comforting touch. Megatron held him close, enveloping him in a tender embrace, his fram warm and comforting around him. But the touch of his field was missing.. It was unusual, and it strummed at some of those still-stubborn doubts. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Drift murmured.

 

Megatron remained silent for another moment as he pulled Drift up and into his lap. “Missed you,” he finally said.

 

Drift flushed, internally admonishing himself. Something was clearly wrong and Megatron needed comfort… not for him to hang his every word with meanings they didn’t have. “So did I,” he managed to say. “That was a long time to be underground.”

 

Megatron hummed, stroking his hand down Drift’s back. Similarly it was hard for him to focus on anything else. Normally, physical affection with them had been idle: Drift lounging across his lap because it was easier to share a datapad that way, and Megatron’s hands on his plating in gentle support or idle soothing. But thankfully he spoke, breaking Drift from his fixation again: “I wasn’t down there the whole time.”

 

Engine purring from the affectionate gestures, Drift tilted his helm back lazily to gaze up at him. “Oh?”

 

Megatron grunted. After what seemed like another very long time, he added, “I was imprisoned.”

 

Alarmed, Drift sat up. “What? Why?”

 

He shook his helm. “A bar fight. I wasn’t really involved, but it didn’t matter.”

 

Drift snorted, his lip curling. “Never does to enforcers,” he muttered darkly.

 

“So I found out,” Megatron said shortly.

 

Held this close to Megatron’s frame, Drift could feel the edges of his still-restricted field, and as he shifted his weight again he felt  _ something _ flare ever so slightly. Something he recognized as all too familiar: pain. Drift frowned up at Megatron again. “Are you hurt?”

 

Megatron pressed his lips thin. “One of the guards took his frustrations out on me.”

 

Drift scowled. “Typical,” he muttered. He ran his hands gently over Megatron’s broad chassis. “Are you okay? Is it healing?”

 

Megatron lifted his hands to still Drift’s, and Drift had to struggle to keep his own field under control. “I’m fine,” he said. “Sore, but fine.” Drift sighed, but he didn’t fuss or try to pull away. “I meant what I said… I just wanted to see you. I was fearful I wouldn’t be able to again.” 

 

Drift’s spark roiled in his chassis, soothed by attention and affection from Megatron, and yet longing for it to be more than what it was on the surface. He rested against Megatron’s chestplate, his shoulders drooping as he ex-vented again. There were words for that, just as there were words for this evening and for the ones like it that preceded; they were ones he didn’t dare utter, so he simply murmured, “I’m glad you’re okay.” Because Megatron’s words also brought a chill to his spark — Drift knew all too well that some of those who were picked up in that kind of situation never came back.

 

Megatron rested his hand over Drift’s helm. “Me too.”


	6. Day Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 6: Hedonia Shore Leave
> 
> ...aaand here is where I start bending the rules a weensy bit. :) I've made too many jokes about this exact situation not to take the opportunity to write Drift & Ratchet visiting Hedonia again after EOS.

Ratchet hadn’t thought they’d end up in this sector again and yet there it was: Hedonia. He leaned against the navigation console, maybe too aware of Drift’s optics on him. “You sure you don’t mind a detour?”

 

Drift grinned up at him from the seat. “Are we on anyone else’s clock?” he asked.

 

Ratchet returned the smile briefly, admiring the new paint emphasizing his features. “Point taken,” he said. “Still, thank you. I missed out last time and I’ve heard it’s worth going at least once. I even saved Magnus’ notes on which areas and establishments are mech-friendly.”

 

For some reason, that made Drift laugh; Ratchet would have demanded to know what was so funny, but he was rather enchanted by it. Besides, that was a very Ratchet thing to do, he supposed. 

 

He really was grateful, besides. He needed a lot more engex to deal with the sparks that went off every time their hands touched.

 

***

 

Had he been unconsciously seeking this conclusion? Ratchet wasn’t sure. He was skilled at lying to himself. But he couldn’t lie about how good dancing with Drift felt, not in any capacity. They’d each had some drinks — not a lot. Just enough to loosen on some things they otherwise wouldn’t allow of themselves.

 

LIke dancing.

 

The tension that was a thick miasma in that tiny shuttle was now a thundercloud around them, electric through their fields every time their plating brushed together. Every time the crowd pressed them in tighter and granted them even less space, it was just more of an excuse to let it happen.

 

Ratchet felt an odd tingle down to his core. He hadn’t done anything this carefree in so many millennia that it felt new. He had a feeling Drift felt the same.

 

He had a feeling Drift felt the same about a  _ lot _ of things.

 

That thought was pushed aside as Drift led them from the dance floor. The premise was to share another drink, but they were both laughing breathlessly by the time they reached the bar, a thrill zinging in their fields, echoing in wakes of excitement and wonder. Ratchet held up two fingers to the barkeep but after the put-upon organic alien turned to pull two cubes of engex, Drift captured Ratchet’s hand.

 

Ratchet only jumped because of how unexpected the directness of touch was. They’d been dedicatedly demure so far, every contact — even on the dance floor — deliberately not deliberate. But now he stared into Drift’s face, unable to break their gaze even as Drift intertwined their fingers.

 

“What is it, Drift?”

 

Drift just smiled and shook his helm. But before the medic could remark further, Drift used his easy strength to tug Ratchet forward and into a kiss. He seemed almost hesitant, as though expecting to be pushed away. 

 

Well. Ratchet did so enjoy proving Drift wrong. He used his free arm to tug Drift even closer, to where they might as well be sharing a bar stool, and returned the kiss with a blinding intensity. It was worth it, to feel Drift relax into their embrace. Not even the exasperated sigh of the bartender as he shoved their fresh drinks into their elbows disturbed the moment.


	7. Day Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chromedome & Rewind + Anniversary 
> 
> I've never written these guys before but how could I resist that combo of prompts? :)

Rewind had wanted to sit on his shoulders, but halfway back to their hab suite, Chromedome ended up holding him in his arms instead. They were both a little too wobbly after the celebrations down in  _ Swerve’s _ , and though there had been much hooting and hollering when they finally took their leave, they left tipsy and happy.

 

Celebrating their anniversary with friends was always better.

 

“That was nice,” Rewind said, echoing the shape of Chromedome’s thoughts.

 

Chromedome smiled behind his mask. “Yeah,” he replied. 

 

Rewind made a soft sound as he settled into the crook of Chromedome’s arm. “Do you think yearly is too frequent?” 

 

Chromedome glanced down at his conjunx, but not for long; he wasn’t drunk but he also wasn’t completely sober, and focusing on walking was better in the end. “What do you mean?”

 

Rewind shrugged his narrow shoulders. “I mean, we live for so many years… some might think one is insignificant.” 

 

Chromedome paused outside the door to their hab, leaning his helm down to nudge against Rewind’s. “No years with you are insignificant,” he murmured.

 

Rewind hummed happily, nuzzling Chromedome’s helm. Still, he sighed as Chromedome carried them through the threshold to their room. “I don’t mean that,” he replied. But he fell quiet as Chromedome sat on the berth, letting Rewind situate himself in his lap. 

 

Chromedome just shrugged. “We can celebrate less frequently if you prefer?”

 

Rewind chuckled, pulling himself up to bump their masks together with a tiny shock of static. Affection curled into his own field from the smaller frame. “That’s not what I mean either. I love celebrating with you.”

 

Chromedome grinned widely. “I love  _ you _ .”

 

Rewind hummed happily. “That’s exactly what I mean.”


	8. Day Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 8: Friendship + Adventures of Ratchet & Drift
> 
> I couldn't resist slipping some poly robots in here bc it's hashtag my brand haha
> 
> There's a hint of an implication of some past NSFW but otherwise just as safe as everything else lol

They were on some planet far enough out of the way that the constellations didn’t remotely look familiar to them, but that was just fine; all Drift needed for comfort was Rodimus’ company. They were lying in an open area, gazing up at the beautiful, unfamiliar stars, and just chatting. Like they used to; like they always should have been.

 

Somehow, the topic had turned to the various things he and Ratchet had gotten up to before they rejoined the crew, and it felt good to have Rodimus laughing heartily at his words and leaving an effervescent joy rolling infectiously through their fields.

 

And then he made the mistake of mentioning Hedonia. Even in passing, it clearly hooked Rodimus’ attention. He rolled over on his front to peer into Drift’s face rather than up at the sky. “ _Hedonia_?” he repeated.

 

Drift coughed. “Did I say that?” he said, trying to pretend he was very interested in the night sky.

 

“Yes, you _did_ ,” Rodimus replied. “And I’m not just gonna forget it — hey!”

 

Drift finally looked at him, sheepish. “Yes?”

 

Rodimus snorted. “I don’t believe this! _Now_ you clam up. What the frag  _happened_?”

 

His features were flushed all the way to the tips of his finials, and Drift knew that this close, that was another detail that would be hard for Rodimus to miss. “I mean, what _usually_ happens when ‘bots are there for a weekend?”

 

Rodimus’ optic ridges shot up. “A _weekend_?”

 

“A, er… long weekend?” Drift offered.

 

Rodimus almost seemed dumbfounded. “A long — how long were you _there_?”

 

Drift chuckled, a little self-conscious. “Four days?”

 

Rodimus blinked. “Holy shit,” he said. He flopped back on his back again. And then, a moment later, “I knew it.”

 

“ _Pardon_?” Drift sounded so scandalized that Rodimus burst into laughter, but he felt an underlying tone of blue in his field. He slowly started to push himself up by his palms.

 

Rodimus waved a hand vaguely in the air. “You two. I mean, you’re not exactly subtle, are you?”

 

“Neither were we,” Drift replied, peering down curiously at the mech. Now it was Rodimus avoiding his gaze. “Rodimus — ”

 

“Drift, don’t — ” Whatever idiot thing Rodimus was going to say, it didn’t matter — Drift leaned down and kissed it off his lips, his field blooming in affection and longing against Rodimus’. He could feel surprise licking back into his own field from Rodimus, but that didn’t seem to stop him from kissing Drift back.

 

Good.

 

But after a moment, they did pull apart — not that Drift went far, his helm resting against Rodimus’ as he shifted his weight into a more comfortable near-lying position. Rodimus licked his lips and after a moment seemed to gather some of his thoughts together again. “So… what’s this about, then?”

 

Drift smiled. “I wasn’t ready to give you up, either,” he said softly. “Ratchet gets it. Or at least, he said something to the effect of, _I’m no stranger to that kind of arrangement._ ”

 

Rodimus looked stunned and puzzled for another moment, before he snorted in laughter and slapped Drift’s shoulder. “You aft! You just want to have your cake and eat it, too!”

 

Drift dissolved into laughter at this, eventually placing another affectionate kiss on Rodimus’ cheek. “You’re damn right I do.”

 

“Cool.” Rodimus wrapped an arm around him, toying with some of his back kibble, and then he suddenly made a face. “This doesn’t mean — me and Ratchet — ?”

 

Drift broke down laughing again. “No, no,” he said. “I mean, not unless you wanted to?” He suppressed another laugh at the scandalized look on _Rodimus’_ face. “Then I’ll just be your little hinge.”

 

“More like a little _un_ hinged,” Rodimus teased.

 

Drift snickered. “That’s not funny.”

 

“Then why are you laughing?”

 

Drift grinned. “To make you feel bett-t-t— _hey_ , no _tickling_!” Those soothing exploring fingers had suddenly turned traitor and Drift squirmed and laughed helplessly against Rodimus’ front. And despite his protestations — it was still the best company for the night.


	9. Day Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> work has a habit of doubling down on on deadlines and general craziness when I have shit i want to DO. but here we go
> 
> LLF: Grimlock + Appreciation

The fact that Misfire had been quiet long enough for Fulcrum to nearly doze off was, itself, pretty miraculous. Of course, it didn’t last. “Hey, how long did they say they’d be gone?”

 

Fulcrum peeked open an optic. Most of his field of vision was overtaken by Grimlock’s large snout; the lucky mech actually  _ had _ dozed off. Once upon a time, napping at Grimlock’s side sounded like the least relaxing prospect in the galaxy, no matter  _ how _ nice the afternoon on this planet was — but then, no one had really conceived an end to the war, either.

 

And on this nice day, warm with enough breeze to keep one’s joints cool, Misfire was on Grimlock’s other side doing… something. 

 

“They didn’t say,” Fulcrum finally replied.

 

Misfire hummed in such a way that Fulcrum could clearly picture his frown. “Didn’t Spinister say — ?”

 

Fulcrum snorted. “He said it ‘wouldn’t be too long’ — which means nothing unless you know what increments he’s decided to use this week.” Now that he was more awake, he leaned up on his elbows some more. “What are you doing, anyway?”

 

Misfire popped his helm above Grimlock’s to peer over at Fulcrum. He had a wide grin on his features which rarely boded well. “I’m making something.”

 

“You’re  _ what _ ?” This he had to see. Fulcrum stood, careful not to rouse Grimlock. No matter how friendly he was now, he still didn’t take kindly to having a nap disturbed. Misfire settled back as he approached, sitting cross-legged on the ground, pieces of wire and thin scrap metal strewn before him. Some of them appeared to be wadded up and attached to the wire. “What is it?”

 

Misfire scoffed as he picked up another flimsy piece of scrap and started folding it around another. “It’s a flower crown!”

 

Fulcrum squinted. He knelt down and, picking up the wire, he could see better the formations meant to mimic the delicate petals of organic flora. “I see,” he said, still turning it over in his hand. “Since when do you make stuff like this?”

 

“Since I looked up tutorials off Autopedia,” he said absently, his focus entirely upon the new bloom he was crafting out of the scrap metal bits. 

 

“Why  _ Autopedia _ ?” Fulcrum said with disdain, carefully setting the wire crown on the ground before Misfire.

 

Misfire shrugged. “S’fun to troll. And lot’s of it’s pretty well researched, which is how I found the tutorials. This is only my first one so I’ll get faster and better soon.”

 

There was some kind of charm in his surety, and Fulcrum couldn’t help smiling fondly. “And maybe a better idea of measurements? This looks like far too much wire for one crown…”

 

Misfire finally looked up again. “It’s not for any of us, silly,” he teased.

 

“Then who — ?”

 

Misfire shushed him, then looked pointedly at the slumbering beast-former next to them. Fulcrum’s optic ridges shot up. But of course; it was just like Misfire. The bond he and Grimlock had was a little different than the rest of the team. Satisfied with his silence, Misfire went back to working, his wings flicking happily on his back.

 

Fulcrum shook his helm. “Need a hand?”

 

Misfire seemed to light up like an electric sign in excitement. “I thought you’d never ask!”

**Author's Note:**

> ✿ [twitter.com/stardustbytes](https://twitter.com/stardustbytes) ☆ [stardustland](https://cosmicstardustland.wordpress.com/about/) ✿


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